


a memory i never knew was there

by ohallows



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: (sorry grizzop), Alternate Universe, Canon Divergent, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Memories, Modern Era, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Soulmates, switching POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 04:50:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21238457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows
Summary: ‘We have loved each other in every world and we’ll love each other in the next as well‘, she whispers to you in the dark, and you can’t do anything but curl closer, press a kiss to her lips, and wrap your arms around her shoulders. She kisses you back, and even if avoiding her tusks in this world, in this body, is harder than in others, she still tastes just as sweet as her hands roam your body.





	a memory i never knew was there

**Author's Note:**

> day 3 - reincarnation (sasha/azu)  
write women in your fics take 3
> 
> title is from ‘can’t remember where’ by bess rogers!

You learn about soulmates before you’re old enough to really understand what it means. You’re eventually told that some people have them, some people don’t, that some people spend endless hours looking for theirs only to find they’ve been under their nose the entire time, that some people never find them and are just as happy as everyone else. 

Barrett doesn’t tell you any of this, obviously. You hear it from one of the rotating nannies that Barrett keeps around the mansion; she sits you down on her knee and tells stories of her own soulmate, a woman named Alina, and she tells you you have a soulmate as well, somewhere. 

You don’t learn more until later; you’re shipped off to Eldarion and she teaches you about being a  _ woman _ and being  _ posh _ and all that rubbish, and she doesn’t allow any talk of soulmates. Not at all.

Bi Ming Gussett is different. For a start, he’s not an uppity posh lady who raps your knuckles or withholds food if you make a mistake. Mr. Gussett is kind, and when you ask about soulmates he’s happy to tell you his own stories. Tells you how they work, how people fit together.

You don’t much care if you have a soulmate; sounds nice, you think, but your way of life ain’t got much in the way of romance. 

—

It’s a dark night outside, and Sasha hops out of the taxi and dashes up to her flat, holding her hands out over her head to try and block any of the rain. She’s almost comically unsuccessful, and certain she looks like a half-drowned rat as she stands completely soaked in the lift. The lift dings on her floor and she steps out, hair dripping down her back. She thinks the takeaway is fine, but is also determinedly not looking at it out of fear of it not being so. 

As she steps out of the lift she has to dodge a few boxes littering the hallway; the door next to hers is open and she can hear movement from inside, but can’t see anyone. 

It must be a new neighbor moving in, she realizes, and she should  _ probably _ say hi, but the takeaway in her grip is getting colder by the second and she’s had a long day of dealing with idiots and doesn’t really feel up to being social. Still, she dithers, feeling more awkward by the second, until the decision is made for her when a tall black women stumbles out of the room, carrying a box, and knocks into her. Sasha gets thrown to the ground and yelps in surprise as the takeaway drops from her grip. It doesn’t  _ hurt _ , really, not at all, but the woman who knocked into her spins on her heel and drops the box, hands flying to her mouth in surprise and shock. 

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” she exclaims, reaching a hand down to help Sasha back up to her feet. 

“Er - yeah, yeah, I’m fine, didn’t even hurt,” she mumbles. 

“I’m Azu, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you there! _ ”  _ she says, and Sasha stares despondently down at the chicken tikka masala lying scattered on the floor, slowly staining the carpet. “And I knocked your food over as well, I’m so sorry! Please let me get you something else to eat. What’s your name?” 

She talks fast, and her smile is blinding, and Sasha feels a tug of something when she answers. ”Er… Sasha. Sasha Rackett.”

“Well, Sasha Rackett,” Azu says, and Sasha notices that she has a blindingly beautiful smile. “Let me take you out to dinner. It’s the least I can do.”

Sasha doesn’t know what makes her say yes, but when her and Azu are laughing hysterically over some chips down the local pub, she realizes that she could never regret it.

—

Zolf leaves. Zolf leaves and you’re all alone, and you can’t help but think about how he said as long as you stick with him, you’ll be fine, and now he’s not here, and you don’t think you’re fine. Grizzop is a good addition to the team, he gets things done, even if he is a bit more ‘go go go’ than any of the rest of them. Bertie dies, and you find that you’re actually a bit sad. It’s weird; he was a terrible person, and he was only with you all to get out of a contract his ancestors made, and he’s at least partially the reason Hamid’s sister died. 

Mr. Gussett always told you emotions weren’t always rational, anyway. 

It isn’t long before you meet a paladin, and then something clicks into place. Azu is tall and beautiful and she loves so openly you can’t help but find yourself caught up in it. You don’t regret it, because your heart stutters every time you look at her, and she keeps looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

You remember snippets, sometimes; nothing more than dreams of lives lived with her, and you don’t know where they come from but you know they’re true and real with every fiber of your being.

_ We have loved each other in every world and we’ll love each other in the next as well,  _ she whispers to you in the dark, and you can’t do anything but curl closer, press a kiss to her lips, and wrap your arms around her shoulders. She kisses you back, and even if avoiding her tusks in this world, in this body, is harder than in others, she still tastes just as sweet as her hands roam your body. 

_ I don’t - think - I don’t know if I want - I’m not -,  _ you stutter, the second they touch the small of your back, and she holds your hands, presses kisses to your knuckles, and says she understands, says she loves you, says she’ll always love you, and you can’t express how relieved you feel. So you don’t; you just wrap her in a tight hug and she kisses your cheek and you hope beyond words that you’ll remember this one. 

She never pushes you, either; you aren’t interested in, well, any of that, and she doesn’t mind. Doesn’t make you feel badly for it. Doesn’t make you feel… wrong. Confused. Just accepts you as you are, and you love her all the more for it. 

Remembering is hard, sometimes, but there’s always  _ something _ , a tie, a feeling of connection that you’re never able to shake. It was true in this world and you’re sure it’ll be true in the next. 

—

“You won’t be able to stop this,” Sasha hears in her ear and, angry, pulls the communicator out of her ear to hiss a single “Fuck you,” back to Barrett. The agency will be after her, she knows they will be, but she can’t bring yourself to care anymore. Sasha’d been suspicious of their actions for a while, and had pulled Zolf in from retirement to do some more investigating. He’d found damning evidence, proof that Barrett and the agency had been kidnapping kids off the street, kids no one would miss, and - well, it makes her sick to even think about. The pictures had been… hellish. Gruesome. 

At least she knows what happened to Brock. Not that it’s helped in any way.

She’s going to take down the agency, or she’s going to die trying. And if she dies, there’s a dead man’s drop already set up to send all the photos on to the proper channels. Sasha thinks that’s the only reason Barrett hasn’t come after her himself yet, and she’s going to take advantage of that fact for as long as she can. 

But now, she’s breaking into one of the most secure buildings in the world, and she  _ knows _ no one else is as good as her, but she still thinks there’s going to be a threat around every corner.

She spares a second to worry about Zolf; he and Hamid will have to get out as well, but he’s been an agent for the longest time out of any of you. He can handle it, and he’ll get Hamid out as well. She has to believe they will. Cel and Grizzop will be fine - she tipped their handler off about sending them abroad for a mission and helping them ‘disappear’, and Wilde will make sure it happens. 

She pulls the hood up over her head and slips in through the window, landing near-silently on the tile floor. She has to get up to the top office before Barrett’s men can catch her, has to grab the files from Le Gourmand before everything goes more tits-up than it already has. Zolf has given her all the tech she needs to steal the files, it’s just a matter of getting up there and getting it out. 

The entire floor is silent, and she flips the infrared switch on her goggles so she can see in the dark, avoiding the traps in the room from the floor plans she memorized before going rogue. She’s alone, which is dangerous, but she knows she can do this. She has to.

She flows like a shadow into another room, checking all sides to make sure it’s clear before she melts out of the corner and makes her way across, silent as death. She sees the vent she’s supposed to be using and hops up, metal clippings on her fingers sticking to the side as she pulls the front off and drops it quietly to the floor, perfectly angling it so it lands on the thick carpet a few feet away. It takes no more than a moment before she’s in, traversing through the vents and following the path Zolf had laid out for her. A few more turns and she’s there, and then she’s pulling the vent cover off and flipping to the ground, landing on her feet as she immediately takes stock of the room that she knows is Le Gourmand’s base of operations. 

There’s a crashing sound from behind her and she spins on her heels, knife sliding out from her sleeves and fitting comfortably in the palm of her hand. She holds it up, ready to throw, and tenses, spotting a woman in all black with a balaclava covering nearly all of her face. Sasha takes a moment to appreciate how kitted out she is. 

The woman’s got a bandolier chock full of what might be grenades or what might be smoke bombs; Sasha rather hopes its the former. She’s got an impressive amount of guns strapped to her thighs, and that’s - yeah, that’s one of the guns, trained right at Sasha’s head. 

Shit. 

“Uh… hello?” the stranger says, eyeing the wicked-looking knife in Sasha’s hand with no small amount of apprehension, but there’s steel there as well. 

Sasha doesn’t say anything in response and they both fall silent. Neither of them move, knife vs. gun, and Sasha doesn’t really favor her chances against a bullet but the woman’s finger still isn’t on the trigger, so she thinks she still has time before she decides to kill her or not. 

“Are you working with Le Gourmand?” Sasha asks, and the woman shrugs, not giving anything away. 

“Who wants to know?” she says instead, and Sasha heaves a loud sigh. 

“Someone who wants him and Rackett to stop hurting kids,” she tries, and from the way the woman’s eyes widen in surprise she knows it was the right thing to say. “I’ve got a kill switch. Steal the files, blow the place up. Don’t get in my way.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” the woman says. “If you’re going to take down the boss here, I’m not planning on taking a bullet or a blade for him.” She holsters her gun and Sasha watches her warily, before creeping over to the computer and plugging in the USB Zolf had given her, letting it work its magic. 

“Who sent you?” Sasha asks, and the woman simply raises an eyebrow. “Right, dumb question, alright. Either help or get out before the bombs go off then.”

“I’ll help,” the woman says, and turns on a heel, shooting out a nearby security camera. “And as for who sent me, let’s call them a friend. I’m not sure why, but… I feel like I can trust you.”

Sasha feels the same, and can’t explain why. Trust is a valued commodity in her line of work, and even now, all these years later, the only person she trusts with her entire life is Zolf, although Hamid, Grizzop, and Cel take a close second. Even Wilde is up there, thanks to him getting her out of a sticky situation a few years back. 

The point is, she doesn’t trust people. But here she is, trusting this stranger she met on a whim, something she’s never done before. 

… Zolf would congratulate her on all this self-growth if he were around. 

She finishes up her work and pulls the USB out of the computer. The charges she needs to set are strapped to the inside of her jacket, along with nearly 30 more knives in case of emergency, and she places them at strategic points around the room. She wants all evidence of being here hidden, but she doesn’t want the entire building to go down. There might still be people on lower floors, and this should remain a localized explosion, if Feryn’s tech is to be believed. Zolf swears by it, but the man’s his brother, so he might be a little biased. 

“Charges are set. We need to get moving, now.” Sasha says, and the woman nods, kicking through a window. Security alarms start blaring and Sasha gives her a dumbfounded look. She just shrugs, and hops through the window, rappelling to a building a good distance away. After a beat, Sasha follows, and comes to a halting stop as she unclips herself and lands, knees bent, on the roof. 

“I can’t breathe in this thing,” the woman is saying, and then she tugs at the bottom of her balaclava as she pulls it up over her mouth. “Damned cloth always feels… dunno,  _ dirty _ .” 

Sasha is intimately familiar, and feels a sudden urge to cough when she remembers how long it’s been since she’s washed her own hood. They sit there, hidden in the shadows as they perch on a roof a few feet away. They’re perfectly placed to watch as the top floor of the building explodes, going up in smoke. Sirens wail down on the streets below, and they both sit there in relative silence, watching the building burn. 

“Is that your job done, then?” the woman asks, faint streaks of red and blue lights blinking around them as the emergency vehicles below speed toward the tall building.

“There are a few other contacts I need to take out before I can actually go off the grid permanently,” Sasha explains, and she’s still not sure why she trusts this woman, but she guesses that if you explode a building with someone, there’s an unshakeable bond there. “If your list is anything like mine, we might run into one another again.”

It’s an offer and a warning all at once. Sasha knows just how dangerous this all is, knows just how badly Barrett can strike, and Brock and Bi Ming’s faces drift at the corners of her vision, screams of years long gone echoing throughout her mind. She blinks and pushes the thoughts away; she can’t afford to be distracted, not yet.

“It’s decided, then,” the woman says. “I’ll come with you. Seems like our jobs might line up after all.” The woman pulls again at the end of her balaclava and begins to pull it off. Sasha averts her eyes out of respect, one professional assassin/spy to another.

“You don’t have to -“ Sasha tries, but the woman is already shaking her head.

“No, if we’re going to be traveling together, you should know who I am. Anyway, I said I trusted you, didn’t I?” the woman says, and pulls off her balaclava, revealing dark skin, a bald head, and the most beautiful eyes Sasha’s ever seen.

There’s a tug in her chest and she nearly stumbles forward, and she doesn’t know why she knows the name that flickers across her mind, but she says it anyway, like a drowning woman gasping for breath. 

Her knife clatters to the floor as she breathes out a quiet, “Azu?”

—

Ancient Rome is the worst. You’re pretty sure Grizzop is about to snap, both literally and figuratively, he’s so high-strung. You can’t blame him - you know intimately well what it’s like being hated for nothing you can change, what it’s like to be ostracized for nothing more than who you are. You know it in a different way than Grizzop, but you still understand. 

All you can do now is trek through the city, hiding Grizzop away as effectively as you can, because if goblins are barely accepted a few millennia into the future, they definitely won’t be in this time period, and neither of you really want a fight again. You’re both still weak from present-day Rome, from the absolute, utter  _ hell _ that is planeswalking, and another fight might just break one or both of you. 

It’s hard, thinking about the people you left behind. You can still see all of them, hands clasping and giving each other looks of desperation and hope, before you’d let your eyes slip shut at Eldarion’s recommendation. You hate how instinctive it was, how the second she’d said it you did it, just like when you were younger. 

It was difficult enough not to scream at her, not to show off Azu and prove to her that you are just as valued as anyone else, that even after all the shite she did you refuse to believe what she’d told you anymore. 

You don’t, and you’re not sure if you regret it yet. Grizzop had opened his eyes, he’d seen Eldarion fall, had seen the… the  _ hand _ , or whatever it was, coming at him as Eldarion fell back, and then he and Sasha were forcibly ripped from the world.

You’d let go of their hands. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but Grizzop isn’t speaking to you like he normally does, and there’s a heavy weight of guilt on his shoulders whenever he looks at you. He’s tense. You both are. 

—

Sasha groans as Cel and Zolf escort her across the road, motioning for Sasha to hurry up as a car comes careening toward them, blaring on the horn. Swearing softly under her breath, she dashes forwards and pulls Zolf and Ceil along as well, just clearing the pavement in time as it speeds by them. 

“Where would I get my adrenaline in life if not from you,” she deadpans, and Cel doesn’t look half as contrite as they should. 

“It’s around here somewhere,” they say instead of engaging, and Sasha rolls her eyes and trades a look with Zolf, who just shrugs at her. “Ah! Got it! Right over here, come on come on, don’t wanna lose out on a seat, they keep getting more popular.”

They bound off and Sasha follows behind at a more sedate pace, flanked by Zolf, who watches Cel fondly. They’d really bonded a lot in the past few months, when Sasha’d been out of the country for work. 

It’s a nice morning out, at least. They amble along for a while before Cel comes to a screeching halt outside a lavishly decorated but small bakery, pointing up at the sign with a grin on their face. “Alright, all in!”

“Why d’you like this place so much anyway?” Sasha asks as they head in, glancing up at the sign that reads  _ ‘Tahan’s Treats _ ’ in a sprawling cursive text. Neither Cel not Zolf seem the type to be into cute little patisseries like this. Zolf’s a bit too much of a curmudgeon and Cel likes a place with some life; suffice it to say, she’s more than a little surprised that the two of them chose this particular spot for their biweekly breakfast meet up. 

“They have good food and don’t ask Cel why they want a frankly obscene number of espresso shots in their coffee,” Zolf explains, holding the door open for Sasha. It’s a lovely little place, really; looks a bit high-end, but the prices are all reasonable.

Zolf goes up to the counter first, and Sasha raises an eyebrow at the soft smile he gets. Well, at least Sasha knows why Zolf  _ really _ likes it, if the way he blushes at the small, pretty worker behind the counter means anything. His name is Hamid, and he smiles as he sees Zolf walk in, eyes only for him as Zolf stumbles through an order. Cel gives Sasha a huge wink as they step up, and Hamid is just as friendly to them, although his megawatt smile seems to not be turned up as full as it was when Zolf was standing in front of him. 

Sasha and Cel make it through the line and wait for the drinks as Zolf snags a small table in the corner of the shop. He waves them over when they’re done, and Sasha plops his monstrosity of a drink down onto the table. She’d opened for a black coffee herself, while Cel basically has an entire canister full of espresso that they’re downing faster than Sasha’s ever seen. 

It’s good to catch up with them; Sasha’s only just got back from a long,  _ boring _ conference, and apparently Zolf’s brother married someone named Oscar (completely platonically, she’s assured, for the tax benefits, even if Zolf looks like he’s sucking a lemon). Cel, to their part, thinks they’ve figured out some new cure and need test subjects. Sasha very quickly declines before they can really start into the spiel. All in all, it’s a fun morning.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” she hears, an hour or so in, and a frankly very lovely barista comes up to them, glancing at their empty cups before beginning to scoop them up. 

“No thanks, Azu,” Zolf says with a smile, and Azu tilts her head back toward Hamid, nudging Zolf on the shoulder. Zolf goes beet red and stutters, and Azu laughs, a bright sound that fills the room. She turns and gives Cel a questioning look, and Cel hands her their canister, smiling as Azu takes it with a fond shake of her head. 

She turns to Sasha, then, and Sasha feels her face heat up, tucking her head deeper into her jacket. 

“Anything for you?” she asks, and Sasha shakes her head.

“Oh - uh - no, no thanks,” she mumbles. “All good. Yeah.” 

Azu’s mouth twitches up into a slight smile, and Sasha feels her heart skip a beat. When she walks away, both Zolf and Cel are giving her twin knowing smiles, and Sasha gives them both a warning look. “Don’t even think about it,” she says, and Zolf leans back, self-satisfied grin on his face. Cel, who definitely has zero sense of self-preservation, does the opposite, leaning forward as they steeple their hands together and rest their chin on top, batting their eyelashes at Sasha.

“Well, Zolf, what do you think?” Cel asks, grinning widely. “Maybe we  _ should  _ come back here for our next get together. The ambience is just so wonderful, isn’t it?” 

Zolf laughs, quietly. “Sure. It’s the ambience.”

“Alright, no more out of you, don’t forget I heard you take five tries to order a drink today,” Sasha says, but there’s no real heat behind it. Still, Zolf’s cheeks turn a dusky, faint red, and he mumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like, “that’s not  _ why,”  _ and it’s so clearly a lie that Sasha doesn’t even bother to correct him. 

She also doesn’t say  _ no _ , or say they should try somewhere new out, and she knows both Zolf and Cel picked up on that; she just can’t really bring herself to care right now, not when she can hear Azu - and god, why does that name sound so familiar to her? - singing along to some top 40 radio hit as she and the other worker - Hamid - dance together behind the counter.

—

Grizzop dies. 

He dies protecting you, and isn’t that just the kicker? He protects you, and doesn’t have the decency to stick around afterward so that you can save him back. You watch him fall, and in the only quiet moment you have, you give his body a hug. You - you hadn’t been able to say goodbye to Brock, you hadn’t been able to say a proper goodbye to so many people you loved, that taking this moment feels like cheating, almost. But you take it anyway. Hold Grizzop for a moment, and it feels like a piece was ripped out of your heart, but you don’t have time to dwell on it now, not when Rome is crumbling around your heads. 

You can’t take him with you, as much as you want to be sure he gets a proper resting place. All you have time to do is close his eyes and hope that Artemis came through after all, that Grizzop is in a better place. He deserves it, at least. He deserves to be in a better place than here, you both did, both deserved more than  _ this _ , but now you’re here and you’re stuck with no way home and now it’s just you and Cicero and -

Maybe you’re spiraling. Maybe it doesn’t matter, not when Rome is collapsing around you. 

You’ve always been a survivor. Barrett said so, and you don’t give two shits what he thinks but he was right. Even when times were toughest, the one thing you knew how to do was get out of a situation. You’ve done it more times than you can count, sometimes only escaping by the skin of your teeth; this feels distinctly like one of those time.

You scale the tunnel outside of the chamber and you’re finally outside of Rome. Cicero finally shut up, but you don’t think it’s because you scared him into it. He’s showing all the signs of shock - you’re more used to it after Paris. Zolf explained the signs to you during one of your few daily heal sessions, just in case you needed to use it in future. 

Well. Looks like you had, eh, boss? Still. They don’t have  _ time _ for either one of them to have a breakdown. They’re both still too close, and you need to get away before the dragons bring their raging hell down upon Rome. 

It doesn’t take long. You bodily drag Cicero away until you can’t feel the heat of the dragons’ rage, and lean back against the bark of a tree, slowly siding down as you do nothing but shake. Cicero is still largely unresponsive, glancing back at the city with wide eyes and looking like he isn’t seeing anything.

Everything’s destroyed. You wish you cared more than you did, but all you see are dragons flying way from the place that killed your friend, and you don’t have it in you to care anymore. 

So you do what you always do. You survive.

—

“No, I want to tell you,” Ourania says, and her mouth pulls together determinedly as Sasha stares at her. This is a terrible idea, a  _ bad idea _ , because the entire point of this arrangement is that you don’t know who each other are, and even though she thinks Tempest and Firestorm already broke that rule, she’s not sure if she wants to.

Ourania reaches up to pull off her mask and Sasha reaches her hand out to stop her. She doesn’t - this isn’t supposed to be hers, this isn’t something Sasha thinks she can have, and she tell her as much. She only smiles back at Sasha, a little sad, and then pulls her mask off. 

Everything clicks into place.

_ Azu _ , Sasha thinks, because of course it’s her slightly nerdy coworker who’s under the mask, the one she’s half in love with and falling quickly, and she should really stop staring but she doesn’t think she can. Azu’s beautiful, even with kohl rubbed around her eyes, even with a scratch running down her face. 

And she’s staring at Sasha, biting her lip as her face falls. 

“Sorry, this was - this was a stupid idea, er -“ Ourania - no, Azu says, and Sasha can’t speak right now, not with this much going on, so she signs frantically at Azu, tells her  _ no, stop, it’s okay _ , and a hint of hope appears on Azu’s face when she looks away from her hands. 

Sasha can’t take her own mask off fast enough.

—

You grow old, in Rome. One day you look around and you’re sixty-five, and you’re surrounded by children and teachers and you realize… you  _ built _ this. This, finally, is something that can just be yours. 

None of the kids are  _ biologically _ yours, of course. The only person you’ve ever wanted to be with  _ really _ was Azu, and even then you never really wanted kids of your own. That’s changed, now. With the threat of Barrett far away, literal  _ centuries _ , you can see the appeal. You’re good with them as well; they’re all mostly ten or older, and they’ve had a rough enough life that being treated like they’re children would be demeaning, so you don’t. 

You still think about her a lot. You think about all of them, actually. Azu, Zolf, Hamid, Grizzop… even Wilde, although you were never that close. You hope they’re all okay, wherever they are. Grizzop believed in the gods, and you hope he’s happy. Azu and Hamid… you hope this didn’t break them too badly. It wasn’t in the cards, wasn’t supposed to happen, and you hope that they can both be there for each other. You don’t know where Zolf’s ended up, if he’s worked through the depression and self-hate. It makes you happy to think he has, that he’s somehow found his way back to the rest of them. 

You know you’ll meet Azu in another life, and you have a sneaking suspicion everyone else will show up as well. It’s how soulmates work, isn't it? It’s all the people you love, the people you want to keep close to you. The universe works, sometimes, to keep you all together. You’ll meet them again. In a different life, in a different world, and maybe you’ll have a better chance there then you did here. Maybe you’ll grow up with parents who love you, maybe you’ll be able to help people, maybe you’ll be able to kiss Azu out on the street without being terrified.

Maybe you can have it all. 

You grow old, in Rome. You miss your friends. But you look around at what you built, at how you took everything you know and used it to protect people, to give people a home, and… you’re happy. 

**Author's Note:**

> these are all the au’s i want to write but don’t have enough ideas to actually do (also idea of spy au technically belongs to quinn, idea of coffeeshop au was zephs for bette/cleo and also someone else’s i think although tahan’s treats was mine, superhero au technically ross and jaimes but with a twist i suppose?) it’s the cowards collective cinematic universe
> 
> the spy one became longer than i meant it to but i’m sure no one will complain 
> 
> also i was gonna do a royal one but didn’t have time SO


End file.
